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Literature Text
Follow the shadows
they know where light begins
Remember that
rain clouds have edges
and watering a parade
can allow flowers to bloom
Silver linings
need not be silver
and the sky won't always be blue
but that doesn't mean it's dismal grey
Dusk and dawn bring inspiration
in the colours of almost
but not quite one or the other
time flows in one direction
carrying all with it
Whether you are more like
a rock smoothed by a river
or the water running into the ocean
a leaf carried by the wind
or the tree it came from
You will always be more
than a sum of metaphors
Realize that the shadow before you
is cast by the light behind
So turn around and
if all you see is yet more darkness
the only source of light possible
is you
they know where light begins
Remember that
rain clouds have edges
and watering a parade
can allow flowers to bloom
Silver linings
need not be silver
and the sky won't always be blue
but that doesn't mean it's dismal grey
Dusk and dawn bring inspiration
in the colours of almost
but not quite one or the other
time flows in one direction
carrying all with it
Whether you are more like
a rock smoothed by a river
or the water running into the ocean
a leaf carried by the wind
or the tree it came from
You will always be more
than a sum of metaphors
Realize that the shadow before you
is cast by the light behind
So turn around and
if all you see is yet more darkness
the only source of light possible
is you
Literature
Millions
How do you tell the story of how a million people felt?
It's like trying to put words on infinity. The telling never ends; once you've caught a thread, you find that it is inextricably bound to countless others, an incomprehensible chain of emotion, a tangled spider web, shuddering with our nympholepsy. Even pictures only tell a thousand words, and a thousand pictures could never hope to come close to the words we lacked. The media's well of words ran dry – how could you say it? Activists grew docile and listless – what was there to say?
Our misery was collective, but as a collective we were splintered irreconcilably, individ
Literature
Cherished
She persuades him to lie down and be still for her
Naked in body only,
her eyes peer past the whole to the pieces.
She squeezes his breasts
Sweet, ripe little things
How they ache for her.
Curious hands become gentle fingers
Sliding up his throat
knuckles rasping against stubble
Skating across his forehead smoothing furrows.
Press gently on the delicate skin at the edges of his eyes
Follow down between the eyebrows
The straight line of his nose
Stroking soft lips that part in hungry expectancy.
She stretches his arms above his head, palms up.
Traces with spider legs down his shivering skin
Tickles the hair of his armpits
Nuzzling her
Literature
...
fine then, just leave me alone
let me rot in this "shithole" existence
you don't like it?
well it's none of your business
try to turn me around
put me on "the right path"?
it won't work
you haven't experienced such wrath
and then experienced the everlasting calm
but you'll never understand
all you know is the bad
all you remember is sad
i'm sorry you felt the need to cut me off
it's a real shame
and you weren't even involved
as if our friendship was a game
well i miss your friendship
you hurt me just as badly
as the one you criticize
still, i would renew our bond, gladly
if you weren't this way or that
stubborn, hard headed
just open you
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Comments5
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so lovely.....I liked to read that one.....but for depressed thoughts I feel like was not 'right' for me post a comment in that one......however I am able to feel the beauty meaning it have....you are so good with words.....good job my friend